


the space inside our bones holds a galaxy

by thesilverwitch



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverwitch/pseuds/thesilverwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they kissed was a mess.</p><p>There were, at least, seven people from three different armed groups shooting at them, Iker’s energy blaster was missing and his communication device was fried and, more important than anything else, Sergio was bleeding in his arms, far too close to whispering his last words.</p><p>“Iker, if I die—“</p><p>“You’re not gonna die,” Iker scoffed, but it was more for show than anything else.</p><p>"There is literally a hole inside of my chest," Sergio said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the space inside our bones holds a galaxy

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas [Stank](https://twitter.com/pedrogeromeI)!! I really, really hope you like this fic. I saw that you liked Sergio/Iker as well as Toni/James, so I figured I could write a prequel to one of my personal favorites that included both of those pairings. This turned out a bit longer than I thought it would, but oh well!
> 
> Quick note: you don't need to read 'this wide and scary universe' to understand this fic, as this story is set some time before the other one.

The first time they kissed was a mess.

There were, at least, seven people from three different armed groups shooting at them, Iker’s energy blaster was missing, his communication device was fried, and, more importantly, Sergio was bleeding in his arms, close to whispering his last words.

“Iker, if I die—“

“You’re not gonna die,” Iker scoffed, but it was more for show than anything else.

A million thoughts rushed through Iker's head, things he’d always meant to say and do. He'd sometimes pictured their end, but it was never like this, never so sudden or so plain stupid. This moment wasn’t the right one for conjuring such dark thoughts, but what if it was the last they got?

"There is literally a hole inside of my chest," Sergio replied.

"And whose fault is that?" Iker asked, angry beyond belief. An energy blast shot through the air above their heads, missing Iker by a few centimeters. Iker, busy worrying over Sergio, didn't even notice.

"Not mine. I was just talking to them."

"You punched the Robowskis’ Fleet Admiral in the face."

Sergio, immobile and missing a large chunk of flesh beneath his ribs, attempted to shrug. "He was going to put something in your drink. He was lucky I only punched him."

Despite everything, Iker smiled. "Of course he was lucky," he said. Another blast missed them by a minimal margin, hitting a tree behind them. Iker ducked and started looking around. They needed to get out of there fast. "Is your communication unit fried too?" 

"Yeah, got destroyed when the Miirts shot us that weird tech ray. Luka's gonna love doing research on that when you tell him about it."

"When _we_ tell him about it," Iker corrected. "What about your blaster? Do you still have it?"

"It's inside my pants," Sergio said. He flashed Iker a wide grin. Even while bleeding out he could still look smug.

"Great place to put it," Iker muttered before he did what had to be done and shoved his hand inside Sergio's pants. It wasn't the first time he put his hand there. Unfortunately, all the other times had been in similar scenarios of emergency where Sergio was immobilized and they needed something he'd hidden inside his pants. They had a type, it seemed.

"It's not my fault I'm so well-endowed people don't notice the guns I'm packing," Sergio said. Even while dying, the man was the human embodiment of an innuendo. 

"Now's not the time for you to act smug," Iker told him as he pulled out Sergio's blaster. It wouldn't be of much use in a direct fight, but luckily for them, this fight was anything but direct. "I'm going to distract them and steal one of their communicators so we can get out of here."

Sergio grabbed Iker's wrist and held him down before Iker could make his movie. "Iker, that is suicide. Come on, just leave me. You'll find plenty of communicators if you get back to the citadel."

"And leave you here?" Iker frowned.

"We both knew things would end like this." Sergio coughed. Specks of blood came out. "Don't worry, I've lived a good life."

Iker's frown became even more pronounced. "Don't be stupid. You're my XO. My best friend," Iker grit out the words as fury pulsed through him. They'd been so stupid. So naïve. But Iker refused to accept this was their end and yes, it was _their_. "I'm not going to leave you here to be slaughtered by some maniacs who worship taxes."

"That's only the Miirts. The Finns are fighting for something called the Free Mind Act. I think it has something to do with mind-control,” Sergio said. As he often did, Iker ignored him.

"Doesn't matter. I'll steal a communicator from the Miirts and then call Luka and tell him to get us out of here."

"You'll get caught in the cross-fire. It's too dangerous," Sergio argued.

"I'm not leaving you," Iker spat out. Why was Sergio always so stubborn? "Please, just this once, shut up and listen to me."

"You're the stubborn one," Sergio said as if reading his mind.

Iker shook his head. ”I'll get us out of here," he promised. He took one of Sergio's hands in his and squeezed it. They were both covered in so much blood you couldn't even see their skin. Iker fought the urge to vomit. How Sergio was even alive, he didn't know and wasn't about to question.

Sergio winced and tried to hide it in a solemn nod. Iker smiled, feeling his eyes prickle. He'd pushed one foot up when Sergio pulled him down by his wrist. Then he did something that neither of them had ever done and he kissed Iker.

"For good luck," he said. Iker blinked and sucked in a breath.

He had just enough time to whisper, "What?" before someone started shooting at them again. Sergio pushed him away, making Iker stumble as he tried to catch his footing.

“Go,” Sergio whispered.

Years of training kicked in as energy blasts started raining on him. Iker ran.

Like he said, the first time they kissed was a mess.

: :

[24 hours earlier]

“Let’s go over the procedure again,” Iker said.

Collectively, everyone around the room groaned. Sergio, born with a flair for the dramatic, thumped his head on the table and moaned like he was in terrible pain. “Iker, we’ve already gone over the procedure three times. I’m sure everyone here can recite it by heart already.”

As if ordered by some higher force, everyone started nodding their heads enthusiastically. Even Luka, their head of engineering and normally a completely neutral element in their reunions, nodded. Iker glared at him. Luka had the decency to look an apologetic, but he still added, “It’s true. I know the plan, the backup plan, the backup plan for the backup plan and the alternative plans that aren’t actual backup plans, just annexes to the plans in case something minor is changed.”

“Okay, well, if everyone can guarantee that they already know everything and have no questions—“ everyone started nodding enthusiastically again— “I guess we can call this meeting to an end.”

All around the room, people sprang to their feet. A couple of hands were shaken, but most people didn’t hesitate to leave without a single glance back. Iker didn’t judge them in the slightest. He valued punctuality and practically over many other qualities and with a crew like theirs, full of people that had known each other for at least three years, he was fine with everyone skipping formalities.

The only people who stayed behind were Sergio, Iker’s commanding officer, and Marcelo, their head of communications.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Marcelo told them.

“I know you do, you’ve only said so about twenty times already,” Iker snapped, regretting his words as soon as they left their mouth. They were all on edge right now and him yelling at his crew wouldn’t do them any good. “I’m sorry. I know you’re worried, but we’ve got to go through with this mission.”

“Fine, but why don’t we call them to the ship instead? Why do we have to be the ones going down onto the planet’s surface? They’re the ones who requested our help, the least they could do is listen to our conditions.”

Iker sighed. This conversation was a repeated one, but evidently Marcelo wasn’t inclined to let go of the subject matter anytime soon. Knowing him, he’ll still be muttering about stubborn aliens and their stupid costumes after they’ve beamed down onto Real Oltin. 

“Because our job is to play nice so that is what we do.” Sergio swept his arms outwards with the most sarcastic smile on his face. “Play nice.”

“Our job isn’t to play nice,” Iker argued. “Our job is to explore uncharted space, establish contact with new races and, occasionally, aid in diplomatic missions.”

“Play nice,” Sergio concluded.

“We definitely play nice,” Marcelo agreed.

Yeah, alright, so maybe a big part of their job was to ‘play nice’, but it was an important part. In space, where days of travel separated one inhabited planet from another, the presence of the Royal Madrid served as a reminder that no one was alone and that help would always come.

And then, in other places, like Real Oltin, a planet populated by three powerful civilizations for thousands of years, the Madrid served as a reminder not of a helping hand, but of a watchful eye.

They were part of a bigger organization, the Alliance, which held many functions in the galaxy. The Alliance connected planets and colonies, traveled uncharted space, investigated new species and fauna and worked on developing new forms of agriculture, medicine, traveling, communications and much more. Their main job, however, had little to do with science. They were a system of order. Justice.

Right now, a storm was blooming across space. There was talk of revolution in Abuntu, one of the richest and most powerful planets in the Alliance. They were only rumors, but true or false, rumors held power.

In Real Oltin, the order was established by three different factions that divided the planet into three equalitarian parts. They had co-existed since their birth and although they didn’t always see eye to eye, they had signed a peace treaty over one hundred and fifty years ago, when they started exploring space, to ensure that were Real Oltin ever attacked by outside forces, they would be able to stand united and hold their ground.

Of course, peace treaties only held up without flaws in theory.

New problems surged every day. The rumors of a revolution soon to come in Abuntu had begun to make certain people—important people—nervous. They demanded more from the other factions, who in turn told them, through many flowery words and metaphors, to fuck off.

This was where Iker and his crew came into the picture.

The Royal Madrid had been called because, according to Admiral Pérez, the stories that went around the galaxy described Iker as a ‘fair’ and ‘diplomatic’ Captain, a polite man who would be able to ensure everything went along smoothly through the power of civil conversation.

Stories started by an enemy, no doubt.

Nevertheless, made for politics or not (definitely not), Iker was asked to mediate the talks between the three factions. With a revolution already at stake, the last thing Iker wanted was to leave the door open for another one, which was how he found himself hovering above Real Oltin alongside his companions, hoping to whatever deity they worship here that everything will work out for them in the end.

It usually did, anyhow.

“Let’s hope we can play nice again tomorrow and everything goes to plan,” Iker said.

“Right,” Marcelo said, giving Iker the disdainful look of someone who thought the idea of ‘everything going to plan’ was as likely as Sergio suddenly losing his love of horses. “I’m going to check up on Luka. He’s working on some new blasters he wanted to show me.”

Iker nodded and let his friend take his leave. As soon as the doors closed behind Marcelo’s back, Iker sat on the large glass desk that took over most of the room and sighed. He and Sergio were silent for a couple of seconds, which Iker gratefully appreciated, until Sergio coughed.

“If you wish to do like everyone else and tell me about the terrible decision I’m making, I’ll have to politely ask you to shut up.”

Sergio laughed. “In all the years you’ve known me, Iker, have I ever been the type who imitated others?”

Iker shook his head. His eyes were still closed, but he could feel Sergio’s presence as his friend sat by his side on the glass table. Iker started to feel the sweat collect at his temples. As always, Sergio’s body irradiated warmth like a massive heater due to Sergio’s half Aldorian nature. Amongst many differences, Sergio’s body was a full ten degrees hotter than simple humans. 

“There is a storm on the horizon,” Iker said.

“We’ve faced many storms before.”

“Nothing like this one. The crisis in Real Oltin is only the beginning. People everywhere are beginning to grow restless. I hear they’ve already begun to stockpile on perilio in the outer edges of the galaxy.”

Perilio was a rare mineral essential for deep space exploration, scarce in most planets but Abuntu, where it could be found in abundance. If Abuntu went to war, which grew more likely by the second, the entire flow of life as they knew it would be disturbed.

“I’ve heard those stories too,” Sergio said. He put a hand on Iker’s back and patted it, leaving it on Iker’s shoulders afterward.

Iker tried not to lean back against Sergio’s hand. He genuinely tried.

“I’m growing too old for this stuff,” he said.

“You’re thirty-four,” Sergio laughed.

“Old,” Iker repeated. He finally opened his eyes and shifted his neck from side to side until he could hear his old-man joints pop. “Are we still on for holo-movie night?”

“Of course.” Sergio’s smile was as wide as it was intoxicating. “Would I ever fail you?”

“Many nights spent in med-bay are the answer to that question,” Iker replied, making Sergio flip him off.

With a small sigh, which Iker would easily blame on how tired he was and not from missing his best friend’s presence by his side, Iker got up and went back to the main deck. He was the Captain of the Royal Madrid and he couldn’t spend any more time hiding in an empty room with his First Officer. The whole crew already thought they were fucking, it wouldn’t do to add more wood to _that_ fire.

Sergio caught up with him as they left the meeting room. “Why don’t you go take a nap? I’ll cover your shift for you,” he said.

“I can do my job,” Iker said, glaring at Sergio, who laughed, openly and unapologetically, as he always did.

“You look like shit and as your best friend and First Officer, I’m worried.” Sergio pouted. Iker rolled his eyes. 

“Fine, suit yourself. You know how to reach me.”

“By yelling your name at the top of my lungs and sending out smoke signals?”

“Sergio, when they told you to become a pilot back at the academy and give up on your career as a stand-up comedian, they did so with a reason,” Iker said.

“I wanted to be a fashion designer, not a comedian!” Sergio yelled at Iker’s retreating back.

Even though Sergio couldn’t see him, Iker grinned anyway, knowing his friend would be able to feel the smugness rolling off him. “Thank you for admitting that out loud,” Iker said.

Sergio’s laugh followed him all the way into the transport shoot up to the room quarters.

: :

[18 hours earlier]

Sergio had terrible taste in holo-movies. His favorites were all those sugary sweet movies with a romantic line that gave you diabetes and a plot twist that made you reconsider whether having a brain was worth it. Iker absolutely detested every single holo-movie Sergio picked for them to watch. He much preferred the classics and thrillers, the ones with substance that made you think.

So why, then, did Iker spend one night a week watching holo-movies with Sergio? Movies that were always picked by the latter since Sergio found Iker’s preferences to be ‘snooze-inducing’.

Well, Iker could think of a few answers.

“What are we watching tonight?” he asked as he stepped inside Sergio’s living quarters.

He’d accidentally overslept and let Sergio cover his entire shift when he’d only meant to take a small two hour nap. To make up for it, he’d gone down to the kitchens and asked the head chef to make Sergio’s favorite meal, the Liirtian lasagne. 

“ _Space Hopping_. It’s about a little boy who builds a horse with parts from a junkyard and goes traveling through the galaxy with it,” Sergio said.

Iker wanted to ask if he was fucking serious because _what_.

That was just— _what_.

Even for Sergio, it was a lot.

Iker stared, then decided not to say anything. Deep down, he already had his answer.

He put their food on the coffee table and settled next to Sergio on the couch. 

“Is that lasagne?” Sergio asked as he smelled the food. As his interest was spiked, his energy levels grew until he looked about ten times as hyper, which meant he was a hundred times or so more hyper than a regular human being. Iker smiled.

He and Sergio met at the academy, back when they were both cadets and from the moment he laid eyes on him, Iker was sure of his feelings for Sergio: hate. Unfiltered, brimming hate. Sergio was everything he detested in an officer. Loud, boisterous, cocky, you name it. If Iker hated it, Sergio checked the box for it. Even his hair was annoying. Who put gel on long hair? It looked gross.

Part of Sergio’s nature was out of his control. Aldorians have a lot more energy than human beings and it was normal for them to look like they drank thirty espressos a day. Iker was sure, however, that a lot of Sergio’s nature was just _Sergio_.

The other man wasn’t too fond of him either—most people weren’t, back then—but then fate brought them together and forced them to work on the same project for one of their Mechatronics classes. And by fate, Iker meant Lieutenant González. Apparently he and Sergio had begun to stand out in their classes and some people were curious to see how they’d work together. Back then the Alliance’s scientific programs weren’t as broad and there were talks about expanding and sending younger crews into space. 

Obviously, they’d hit it off horribly. In the process of building their Guinea Pig robot and A.I. (Sergio’s brilliant idea), they accidentally started three separate fires and got into two fists fights with one another. Nevertheless, by the end of the semester they didn’t hate each other as much as they once had. From then on, they only grew closer as Iker grew less ‘bitchy’ (Marcelo’s words) and Sergio learned to turn down the energy levels.

Fourteen years later, Sergio was such a huge chunk of Iker’s existence that life without him just wasn’t life.

“You are my favorite person in this galaxy. No, scratch that,” Sergio amended as he took a bite off the lasagna. “My favorite person in the _universe_.”

“I’m going to tell Marcelo and Luka you said that,” Iker joked.

“Do it. Tell everyone. I don’t care. Oh god, this is so good. Iker, I love you.”

And Iker— Iker didn’t blush, he didn’t stutter, he didn’t look away embarrassed even if his stupid heart twisted painfully at the words. He just started their holo-movie and told Sergio to shut up and eat as the pictures surged in the air.

Sometimes, Iker almost missed the times he and Sergio hated each other.

: :

[12 hours earlier]

“Is everything ready?” Iker asked as he stepped inside the pod bay.

“We’ve received confirmation for the rendezvous from the Robowskis and the Finn People. Nothing from the Miirts, however. Although we have been tracing their communication…” said Nacho, one of their tech ensigns.

“Through completely legal methods, I’d presume.”

Nacho grinned. “Aren’t they always? Anyway, we think they’re just playing hard to get. You should be safe down there.”

Iker inclined his head to the side. Those weren’t the words he wanted to hear, but when did the universe ever give him what he wanted? In any case, they were close enough to what Iker desired that he couldn’t complain. “Where’s everyone else?” he asked after he’d counted the people in the room.

If it were up to Iker, he’d be the only one going down onto the planet’s surface and risking his bare neck for these people’s last chance at peace. Unfortunately, higher up powers dictated that their party should be composed of five people because that gave a better image.

Forget explosions and innocuous-looking food that was actually poisonous, it was bureaucracy that would be the death of them.

“Marcelo and Cris are already in the pod, Sergio is on his way and Arbeloa called in sick at the last minute so Pepe is replacing him.”

Iker turned to look at Nacho. “Arbeloa is sick? How come no one notified me?”

Nacho shrugged. “Don’t know. I just got the memo a couple of minutes ago. Want me to call him?”

Iker shook his head. Sergio had just strode into the room in full Alliance regalia with all his medals on display on his red suit jacket. His outfit was so neat and pristine that it must have come straight from the cleaners. He looked like royalty and Iker felt like the sight was more than a little unfair.

“Don’t bother. It’s better to just get this over and done with,” he said.

Sergio walked to their side and asked, “On a scale from one to that hot pilot from the old Earth movies Luka likes, how hot do I look right now?”

Iker rolled his eyes. Nacho looked confused. Iker stared at him. Huh. A tech ensign that hadn’t been forced to watch Luka’s old Earth movies. That was a first.

“Please ignore him and escape while you can,” Iker said.

Looking extremely grateful, Nacho nodded and left.

“Spoilsport.” Sergio blew a raspberry at him.

“Someone’s got to protect the youth.”

Sergio gasped. “I am a great protector,” he said.

They continued insulting each other until they entered the pod waiting for them, at which point they fell silent as Sergio took over the controls and Iker sat with Marcelo at the back reviewing the procedures for the day ahead.

First, Iker would meet with the representatives of each faction in a large group meeting, where they each would put forward their thoughts and conditions. Then, he would meet with them individually and guess who was lying about what. Finally, he would meet with them in a group again. Knowing how these things went, they would have to meet again at least four times before anything was agreed and signed, but Iker hoped they could get a decent head start today.

The Robowskis’ Fleet Admiral was the first to greet them when they stepped foot on Real Oltin. He was a short man of stocky build with disproportionately large shoulders and lavender skin. His head was box-shaped and there was something on his face that Iker could only guess to be a mustache. His voice was, funnily enough, quite high-pitched.

“Welcome to Real Oltin,” he said. “I’m Fleet Admiral Zuckt. We have been expecting you.”

Iker shook hands with him and the rest of his delegation. “It’s a pleasure, admiral.”

“We have rebuilt the old meeting hall just for this meeting. It is built strategically on the only point where the lands of our three nations meet. We call it the Destined Triangle.”

Iker smiled and nodded as the Admiral spoke. He already knew all this, having done his research before coming here, but it never hurt to be polite.

“It was our ancestors who named it,” said someone else.

Iker turned to look and plastered another smile on his face as a very tall, very blue woman twisted her fingers and waved her hand in the air. Iker did his best to imitate her. It wasn’t easy. The Miirts had long, slender fingers that they often used in place of speech in their communications.

Already, Iker could tell _fun_ times were ahead.

“It’s a smart name,” Iker said. Neutral and pragmatic were the words of the day.

Neutral and pragmatic, Iker repeated to himself just as Sergio took a step forward and said, “We didn’t know the Miirts were so poetic.”

Iker glared at him. Sergio grinned.

“Yes, very,” the representative for the Miirts said. “I’m Ugana, high priest of our council.”

Iker nodded, smiling before he turned around and searched for the representative of the Finn People. He found him and his delegation a couple of meters away, although he couldn’t for the life of him tell who the chief was since the Finn People all looked the same. They had an extremely strict dress code that forced them all to wear the same gray slacks, gray jacket, and white shirt. Their haircut was the same, none of them had facial hair, and they all had dark skin. Those who could afford it got plastic surgery so that they could look like copies of their leader, god, and counselor, _Finn_.

Also, they all had the same name.

“Good morning, Captain. I am Finn. I shall speak today,” one of the men said. He looked identical to the men next to him, which Iker found more than a little creepy, as well as a huge security nuisance. 

“And these are?” Iker indicated to the men next to Finn. He already knew the answer, but he wanted it confirmed anyway.

“Finn, Finn, Finn, Finn and Finn. You might find telling us apart a bit difficult—” Iker nodded. Yes, he definitely would “—but you mustn't worry. All Finns are fluent in our nation’s politics. You can talk to any of us and our answer will be the same.”

“Right,” Iker said. “Makes sense.”

Finn #1, as Iker had mentally dubbed him, smiled, apparently pleased with Iker’s reply. 

As the three groups eyed each other warily, Iker asked if they could all head to the congress hall and start with the meetings. Fleet Admiral Zuckt and High Priest Ugana led the party while the Finn People walked at a leisurely stroll behind them. Iker and the crew of the Madrid stayed in the rear.

“They’re like extreme communism meet extreme fanaticism,” Sergio whispered.

“I know,” Iker whispered back.

This was going to be a long day.

: :

[6 hours earlier]

“Iker.”

“Sergio.”

“ _Iker_.”

“ _Sergio_.”

The two men glared at each other. Iker, on a matter of principle, refused to budge. 

“I don’t trust them,” Sergio said after an eternity of the silent treatment.

“Which ones? Short and delusional over there who will go to war for a loaf of bread if it gives him the chance to shoot a few people?” Iker pointed to Fleet Admiral Zuckt. “Or the High Priest who wants to raise the taxes in the colonies so high that people will have to sell their teeth for a meal?” Iker pointed to High Priest Ugana. “In the middle of all this, I actually think the Finn People are the sanest here, which says all there needs to be said about the sanity of everyone else.”

“I agree with you and that is exactly why we should leave.”

“That is exactly why we can’t leave.”

“I’ve talked to the others and they agree with me,” Sergio pointed out, making Iker groan.

“What is this? ‘Gang up on Iker’ week? First the nap and now this. I’m beginning to think you want to start a mutiny against me, Officer Ramos.”

“You’re hilarious,” Sergio replied, clearly not taking Iker’s bait and refusing to let himself be distracted. “I’m serious. They’re planning something. That Zuckt guy keeps staring at you and Ugana won’t even meet your eye while talking to you. And the Finn People are just plain weird.”

Iker sighed. Sergio was right, but Iker was too. They were on an important mission and they couldn’t leave simply because these people were giving them the heebie-jeebies.

The group meeting had concluded a few minutes ago and it had been unproductive beyond even Iker’s expectations. The reports that they’d been given on the situation were outdated and it seemed that the tension between the three factions had escalated considerably since then.

Fleet Admiral Zuckt was hungry for war. He was incapable of speaking at anything lower than a shout and he banged his fists on the table, pointed fingers, and called out names as he gave a long speech on how Real Oltin needed to unite under one ruling hand. The Priest, on the other hand, clearly thought everyone in the room was beneath her and seemed hungry for only one thing: money. The Finn People, as Sergio said, were just plain weird. 

“Tell Cristiano to keep an eye on Zuckt and Pepe to watch Ugana. Send Marcelo back to the ship and tell him to report back to Pérez. We need some higher cavalry here to hold these people back.”

Sergio didn’t look happy that they were staying, but he followed Iker’s orders without more complaints. Their situation wasn’t ideal, that was quite obvious, but leaving now would only make things worse. Iker had to stay, listen to these people, and hope they could prevent them from murdering each other and everyone else in the process.

It wouldn’t be an easy, but as long as no one did anything brash, Iker was sure they would at least last through the day.

: :

[present moment]

There was a blazing wall of fire to Iker’s left and a canyon where his body could fall and never be found again to his right.

Also, there were people shooting at him. From both sides.

Iker ran for his life.

He had already managed to steal a communicator from one of the Miirts, an easy task. With everyone attacking everyone, it was impossible for people to be constantly on the look-out. Iker ran towards the first person he saw, shot them on the leg, grabbed their kit and ran. 

Getting their communicator to work, however, was an entirely different business.

Iker mashed as many buttons as he could, hoping one of them would pick up his ship’s signal. The Miirts were distantly connected to the Liirts, a sister tribe from another solar system, and as someone semi-fluent in Liirtian, Iker had hoped their main language would be similar. Evidently, he’d placed his hopes in the wrong place. There wasn’t a single sign on the communicator which he recognized 

“Motherfucker,” he whispered. He found something that he thought was a rotator scan and flicked it on. He knew the Madrid’s frequency like he knew his own name and date of birth. He searched for it, frantically moving the switch from side to side as the numbers shifted in front of his eyes.

There were lights flashing everywhere, energy blasts, bullets and even some low-range missiles. Every now and then Iker could hear a swift swoosh followed by someone screaming. 

They were running out of time.

After Sergio punched Admiral Zuckt, chaos erupted like an ancient volcano done biding its time. The Robowskis pulled out large, heavy guns that took ages to reload and could probably take out a small ship in one hit. A fire broke out. The Miirts quickly took position outside since they were more apt at long-range than hand-to-hand combat. The Finn People pulled out _knives_. Long, thin knives that they wielded with an ease that sent cold shivers down Iker’s spine.

Two of Zuckt’s guards came down on Sergio, who kicked one in the groin while Iker shot the other on the shoulder. Then Iker grabbed Sergio’s hand and _ran_.

They were almost out of the line of fire when one of the Robowskis took one of their stupid, huge, piece of shit guns and shot at them, ripping off half of Sergio’s chest in the process.

“Motherfucker,” Iker repeated, feeling the tears swell up. He shouldn’t have left Sergio. He should have stayed with him and found another way to get them home. Everything had gone to hell so quickly. Iker didn’t even know where the rest of his crew was, although if he knew Cristiano and Pepe—and he knew them probably better than he would have liked after serving with them for three years—they would be in the heart of the fight. 

Iker was tempted to shout their names, but just as he was about to give up on getting the communicator to work the blasted thing stopped on the Madrid’s frequency. 

“Yes! Is anyone there? Hello?” Iker asked.

“Iker? We’ve heard reports that there’s some kind of shooting going on down there, what’s going on?” Luka’s familiar voice asked.

Iker exhaled, loudly and slowly, before he gave Luka a quick rundown of what happened that started with ‘Sergio punched someone’ and ended with ‘I need you to locate Cris and Pepe, make sure they’re out of the line of fire, and then _blow up the meeting hall_ ’.

“Blow it up? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Iker growled. “I’m pretty fucking sure.”

The building was already on fire, so it was only a matter of time before the whole thing came down. The explosion would be a good distraction and give everyone time to get their bearings together. Not to mention, with some luck Zuckt was still there, nursing a concussion and shooting at things indiscriminately.

Luka didn’t need to be asked twice. Iker watched the sky for the next couple of seconds. The Royal Madrid needed to fly a little higher to get in a good position from which it could shoot. “We also need a med team afterward,” Iker asked while he waited.

“They’ve already been dispatched,” Luka replied.

Iker made a mental note to give him a raise or maybe some new gear for the engineering department, whichever he preferred.

Another moment. Iker inhaled. The Royal Madrid fired, the force of a hundred energy blasters focused on one point. Even though it was on its lowest setting, the attack still felt like having a bomb dropped on your head.

As everyone ran away from the explosion, Iker ran towards it, to Sergio’s side.

By the time he found him, Sergio was unresponsive. Hesitant to move Sergio’s body in case it worsened his condition, Iker fell to his knees by his side and grabbed his hand.

“This is _not_ how you die. After all we’ve been through, all the shit and the hell and that fucking time where they put your mind on a dog’s body. Those were the most miserable days of my life, you know that? Everyone else thought it was some great joke that you were suddenly this big creature licking everyone’s faces and I was worried to death that you would stay a fucking dog forever. You can’t be a dog and you can’t just kiss me, after all these years of me thinking I should stay quiet and not risk ruining our relationship. This one good thing I have, this one—” Iker bit his lip. “You deserve this job as much as me. When they gave me the promotion and stuck you as First Officer, I knew it was because I’m a full-blooded human and there aren’t many of us left. You should have left, back then, gone and find yourself something better. But you stayed. Sergio, you _stayed_.” Iker squeezed Sergio’s hand. 

He heard people shouting from far away. Their shipmates’ voices. Help.

When Gareth freaking Bale burst through the bushes and ran towards them, Iker could have cried.

He stayed with Sergio as their meds swarmed their side, and he stayed with him as they loaded him into the rescue pod, and he was still there when Sergio was rolled into med-bay, right until one of the nurses came along and gently pushed Iker away.

“We need to perform surgery on him,” Varane said.

“Right, right.” Iker took a step back. He had a lot of work to do. He needed to call Pérez and tell the old man to get his ass down here. This was far too much work for one Alliance ship to handle. They needed to put some people on unemployment and cooperate with the Finns. As weird as they were, they were the only ones who seemed disinterested in war.

“He’ll be okay, sir,” Varane said before he looked down.

Iker followed his line of sight. Varane was looking at his and Sergio’s hands, which were still connected.

“If he dies, I’m firing you,” Iker said before he finally moved away.

“He’s not dying,” Varane said. It sounded like a promise.

Iker left in search of Marcelo and the rest of his team.

He didn’t feel himself breathing until, hours later, he received the two-word message he needed to hear.

 

 

> He’s okay.

Iker exhaled. 


End file.
